


Not The Ocean

by dirty_diana



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Battlestar Galactica (2003) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, callum's canon alcoholism, callum's canon grumpiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/pseuds/dirty_diana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callum/Katee. A man walks into a bar, gets called rude names, and probably deserves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The Ocean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maren/gifts).



> Thanks to Mooosesal for the talking-through and the beta, it was much appreciated.
> 
> Written for Maren

 

 

People keep asking him when he's going to become a regular player on this fucking show. "When they show me the money," Callum jokes, but really that doesn't interest him at all, to be working that hard with the same faces, all day, every day.

It's not that he hates it. They're pretty faces, nice guys, all of them. Including Tricia, who scares the crap out of him in her mammoth high heels without trying, and Katee who's practically on his mark every time they have a scene together, her fruity scent in his nose and long hair against his mouth.

It's just that he doesn't want to be tied down. Never has.

*

They're kids, most of them.

Grace and Katee slope in late to work one day, eyes hooded from lack of sleep and reeking of tequila.

Katee slouches in the makeup chair, quieter than usual, and Callum wants to wrap an arm around her until she finally smiles.

They're out that evening, again. Tahmoh is driving, and Katee's head pops out of the passenger-side window. "You want to come?" she calls across the parking lot. She hesitates, remembers too late, the way that they all do. "There's pool."

Callum fucking hates Vancouver bars. Always did, even when he was drinking in them. Overpriced and overrated, full of overdressed people with nothing real to talk about.

He says no, and Tahmoh's compact car drives off into the fog. It is what it is.

*

The thing about only showing up to set once or twice a week is that everything changes faster than the speed of light. "How's your boyfriend?" he asks Katee one morning in makeup, and can only guess by the winces of everyone else in the room that he's made some kind of mistake.

"We broke up."

Callum nods. "That's too bad," he says, and thinks he's pretty convincing.

He gets most of his gossip from Jamie, of all people, who's quiet when they're working but babbles like a girl once he's got a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Hey, did you hear?" Jamie asks him a lot, and Callum always mimics the question back at him, vowels slowed and sweetened into Jamie's London lilt. He does that a lot, makes fun of Katee's West Coast drawl and Tahmoh's clipped northern consonants, for no real reason. He's an asshole.

Jamie rolls his eyes. They're all used to him by now.

*

Jamie is the same age as Tahmoh, Callum knows, but he doesn't think of him as one of Katee's crowd. The cast is split more or less down the middle. Katee, Tahmoh, Kandyse, and Nicky and sometimes Grace, getting into squabbles over endless marathons of Guitar Hero in Tahmoh's trailer. On the other side of the craft table there's Jamie, with pictures of his kids that he pulls out with effortless sleight of hand. Mary's usually there, too, she reminds him of a therapist that he had one time. Plus Eddie, Michael, and Lucy, and Richard every now and then. Richard doesn't sit on any side of any room, though, doesn't sit still at all. Drives Callum fucking crazy.

Callum smokes with the crew, in the rain, and paints on the weekends, by himself. He's a loner.

*

After Katee and what's-his-name break it off it's like Mardi Gras for a while. Katee and Kandyse go out every night and come in sleepy-eyed, but she still makes him work for it in every scene, just keeping up. It's like a fucking boxing match, just as rough and graceful, and for every punch he throws her she socks him one back. Callum could do this job until the day he drops dead.

"Cut," Michael yells, and they get ready to do it again.

*

He finds Katee in the damp beside him one morning, so early that it's still dark, her coat thrown on hastily and buttoned wrong as she exits the soundstage. "Got a cigarette?" she asks him.

Callum stretches out a hand to offer her one without a word. He lights it for her, holding one hand cupped to her face to block the wind. His fingers graze her cheek. She flinches, just for a second, but not so he doesn't notice.

Katee inhales, exhales, and sighs. "You're not going to lecture me?" she asks him.

"I'm not your fucking mother," Callum points out, and they're quiet for a while, against the sound of rain hitting concrete. "You having a bad day?"

Katee shrugs. "You're not my mom, remember?"

When she grins like that, so there's light in her eyes like a fire, Callum thinks that she's playing with him.

"You coming out tonight?" Katee asks him. "Last party before the hiatus."

*

He answers no. But that doesn't stop her from asking again. The bar is as just as shitty as he'd expected, but Callum's a sucker for blondes with pleading smiles. It's an old story, and Callum probably knows the ending but he shows up just the same.

It's a common misconception that Callum can dance. He can't. He can hear the beat just fine, but he's got no interest in moving to it, and when Katee pulls him onto the floor it helps to just keep his eyes on her body, on the swerve of her hips and the things that she's doing. Katee wraps one arm around his waist.

The thing about getting older, as far as he can tell, is that he thinks things through a lot more than he used to. Maybe a little too much, or that's what his friends tell him, but nothing he does sneaks up on him anymore. Which is why Callum doesn't see it coming when he pulls Katee closer and kisses her like he's drowning.

Maybe he is.

A man walks into a bar, gets called rude names, and probably deserves it. Except he's not that guy anymore, and Katee doesn't look that serious when she pulls away and says, "Cal, you're a jerk."

Yeah. It would help if she wasn't laughing.

A lot of things would help right now. He can't seem to think of any of them.

He excuses himself to the terrace, and lights a cigarette.

*

In a different life, or maybe just on a different day, they don't make it back to his apartment. They do it in his car, or in the guy's washroom with one hand holding the thin plywood door closed, both of their bodies vibrating with lust and the bassline of bad hip-hop. Callum's not rough, but he's not gentle either, and his hands slide up her skirt and into her panties like there was never any question.

In this life, Katee's on the patio beside him, and he doesn't remember asking her to come with him. Callum pulls away and brushes her long hair off her forehead, so he can see her face as she looks at him. "I'm going to go, babe."

"Cool. I'll come with you."

"Yeah?" Callum stares at her. "You drunk?"

Katee shakes her head, maybe a little too emphatically.

"Yeah? So what is this, a rebound thing?"

"What the fuck do you care?" she asks him, and maybe the kid has been hanging out with him too much. She's starting to sound a little familiar. Callum smiles, presses his thumb against her lips. He knows he's going to be the next story Jamie and the PAs tell to each other, and he knows Tricia might kill him, actually kill him with the sharp edge of a stiletto, but Katee's right. He doesn't give a fuck.

"Get your purse," he whispers into her ear, and the smell of her skin and perfume hit him like a train. Her breath is sweet, and a street light flickers and goes out. "I'll get my car."

[fin.]

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Not The Ocean by dirty_diana [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195254) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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